Company of Strangers
by Introjection
Summary: A woman who can't hide her mutations from the world and a man who doesn't care to are thrown into the mix together. A series of interconnected events shape the lives of both Logan and Jude, who share the mutation and the mystery of adamantium claws.
1. Chapter 1 A Rough Reception

_Cut them._

A steady, mechanical blipping sound.

_Rip them._

The hot bite of gunfire punching holes into flesh and metal.

_Stab them._

Sparking wires, glass flying in all directions, pink goop flooding out onto the floor. Sight and sound blended into one, the desperate sensation of needing to breathe forcing her into awareness. Her mouth tasted watery and sour, sick rising up to the back of her throat and retching, she shook as some kind of ribbed tube came up from her throat accompanied by a hard thump to her back. Pink fluid gushed out of her mouth and nose in a stream that felt as if it would never stop. Dizzy and gasping for air, she choked in the acrid stench of burning plastic.

_Where am I?_

She had no time to think as something grabbed her foot. Feeling herself being dragged, she lashed out. The kick hit home, illiciting a grunt of pain from her adversary. With vision obscured by viscous pinkness, she threw a punch and felt her fist hit hard into another person. Refusing to let go, her captor grabbed her other foot. Her ankles hurt as they were clamped in a grip like a vice. She thrashed, unable to see or smell. The world was a blur of noise and too-bright images.

_What's... happening...?_

Pressure stamped down on her arm, followed by a colossal force slamming into her head. The floor tiles stretching out before her at first doubled, then melted into blackness.

Consciousness came with a shudder and rumble. Opening her eyes a crack, she could feel firm cushions under her head. Staring up at a window, her vision bobbed along with the bouncing surroundings.

_A truck? It's moving._

She lay covered in glass and wet with some kind of thick, pink chemical that refused to mix with the blood oozing from her wounds. All thoughts of struggling disappeared as her vision began alternating between going double and just swimming. A hideous nausea swirled in her belly. The only way to settle her stomach was to go back to closing her eyes tight.

Whoever it was at the wheel - it smelled like a man - drove on without a missing a beat. Her fists burned, and she did not need to look down to know that long blades protruded from between her knuckles. After a few moments, she dared trying to look around again. Her state did not disturb the driver in the least; his eyes remaining locked on the road.

"Oh great, you're awake," he growled. "Don't try anything stupid. I'm driving."

"Ugh," she groaned. "I… wasn't planning to." Her tongue felt heavy, as if unused to forming words. The tip of one of her claws poked into her leg. "Something's not right... Claws. Stuck?" she mumbled.

Taking in a deep breath and trying to relax, she focussed on the sore points near her elbows, hoping to will them away. All six blades, three in each hand, remained extended however, and straining so hard she could feel the metal vibrate against her bones. Next to her, yellowed stuffing hung out in clumps from three deep gouges in the seat. A bitter taste filled her mouth and it was all she could do to concentrate on not vomiting. Miles wore on in silence. Occasionally she could not win against the sickly sweet sensation, but nothing except bile and foam ever came up from her stomach.

"Here," he grunted, after the umpteenth time she began heaving. A towel arrived next to her face. Through glassy, half-lidded eyes, she could see the sky outside darkening and faint stars between the treetops rushing by. The ache of remaining in the same position for hours on end encouraging movement, she pulled herself up. Something dug into her side, and looking down she saw a shard of glass brushing against the seat, driving its way in deeper. Though her cuts knitted together sealing the wounds hours ago, a deep and pervasive ache throbbed through her body. Catching movement in the corner of her eye she watched the driver's hand reach over and flick a switch. A familiar melody filled the truck cabin. Her jangling nerves began to settle a little, enough to shift about and get down to the business of removing that glass.

"I'd wait a bit if I were you," he said, without taking his eyes off the horizon. "You've got that shit everywhere and I don't need you fucking up my truck even more."

"Where...?" She croaked, letting her hands dangle off the edge of the seat.

"You're headed towards the Highway 90, in a truck."

"Going?"

"Westchester County," he replied. He picked up something from the dashboard that smelled like salt and looked like red leather, and stuffed it in his mouth. Looking down at herself, she was clad in a suit of skintight black material with what looked like ports of some kind - presumably for wires - clinging to her skin. Most of the pink goo from earlier had dried into a flaky crust. Her brows came together in confusion and disgust.

_I don't remember this._

Something shiny bounced against her chest as they drove over yet another pothole, getting her attention. A pair of dogtags hung from her neck. Craning to get a better look at them, she read '_003 - C - S - ADM_' embossed into the metal.

_The fuck does that mean? Who is this guy? Where is Westchester? Should I know where I am?_ Letting her head fall back against the window, she turned her gaze from the cryptic letters and joined him in staring at the road ahead, another wave of nausea rushing up. Grabbing the towel, she willed her stomach to settle.

"Most of 'em are all about the questions by now," he said around the piece of jerky clenched between his teeth. "What's your name? What were you doing in that tank?"

She did not answer.

"I'm a friend," he said. "You can trust me."

"You kicked me in the head!"

"You nearly cut out my kidney and I was running out of time. What was I supposed to do? I could've just left you there."

"I don't know what I was doing in that tank," she replied in irritation.

"Yeah. You wanna tell me your name?"

Her claws glinted in the orange glow of a passing streetlight. _That's the first light I've seen. I must have been far from a city._

"I… Uh. I don't know?" she said, blinking in surprise at her own answer. _Who am I? Where am I from?_ Nothing but cloudy blankness answered her attempts to call up a memory. Any memory. Her mind felt like a knife taped up in felt. Dull, fuzzy and useless. Fear twitched in her stomach. "Yeah, um, I don't know who I am."

"What's it say on your tags?" he asked, his expression stony and unreadable.

"Uh… Numbers," she replied, shaking her head. "Some letters, but no name."

"Well, I have to call you something."

"What do I call you?" She asked. He paused a few seconds before answering.

"Logan."

With the sky taking on a brownish hue, lights appeared more frequently along the sides of the road, and occasionally the trees thinned out enough for her to make out the evergreens' silhouettes and catch a flash of distant mountains.

_What's my name... ? How did I get here... ? ...Nothing._

"Hey," he muttered, his voice and the crunch of tyres on gravel snapping her from her thoughts. Looking up she saw a sad, ramshackle building with a weatherbeaten neon sign. "Pulling in here for a bit. Need to get you cleaned up, and some sleep couldn't hurt."

"I'll stay in the truck."

"Don't be fucking stupid. You look like a cactus," he grunted. "And someone's gonna see you. Put those away," he added, gesturing towards the blades jutting out like knives from her knuckles.

"I can't," she replied. Logan rubbed at his temple, sighing. She flushed with embarrassment.

"Are they always like that?" He asked after a pause of only seconds, but to her felt like hours.

"No, they should pull back in. It's not normal for them to be out this long. Hey, why aren't you, you know, afraid? Are you a… Different one, like me?"

"Yeah. You pick a name yet?" He replied, his words brusque.

"Uh, I liked that song. When you first turned on the radio. I think I know it."

"What, 'Hey Jude?' Everyone knows that one."

"Yeah."

"Could've been worse," Logan said, shrugging as he elbowed the door open. "Could've been Delilah."

Sliding off the seat and out onto the gravel, she grimaced as glass poked and twisted deeper into her body.

"Ugh, you're right, this _is_ everywhere!" Bloody shards fell as she stood up. Wobbling like a newborn deer, she took a few tentative steps towards the sagging porch. Logan allowed her to take her time, coming around from the rear of the truck with his jacket slung over one shoulder. He gestured for her to hold out her arms.

"Put this on. Make sure it covers your hands. Can't let 'em see those."

"My head… Doesn't feel right. Muddy. Can't think straight," she grumbled. Getting to her feet did not feel like the right thing to do, the urge to just lie down in the parking lot right then and there almost overpowering, even despite the bits of glass and blood.

"Yeah, your brain's probably swimming in all kinds of drugs right now." Something in his tone softened.

"That or... from your boot," she muttered under her breath, surprising herself with the sudden temper bubbling just under the surface.

"Hey, I can just get back in my truck, you know, and drive off," he snapped, the sympathetic note in his voice evaporating as he spoke, his eyes flashing in the headlights of a passing car.

"No, I'm sorry. You're right. You're helping. I don't know why I said that. I'm not -"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Just stick out your arms a bit," he grunted. "An' stay still, will ya? I like this jacket." She complied, wincing as he first plucked out a few bits of glass from her arms and shoulders and brushed away whatever that dried flaky substance was before tugging the sleeves up each arm one at a time, ensuring her claws were covered. "Just do what I say when we're inside. Let me do the talking."

The motel's sign had missing letters and Jude noticed the paint peeling up off every plank of wood as they walked inside. Following behind up the creaking stairs, the unpleasant buzzing of electricity filled her ears. A flickering blue bug zapper hung by the door. In the lobby, a hairy man in a stained blue overshirt sat at the desk, his belly spilling over onto the counter. Looking up from a small TV parked between stacks of papers, a slow smile slid across his face and he fished around for a remote, turning it down.

"Logan, been a while. Usual?"

"Yup."

The man's face fell at the sight of her behind him, the jacket hanging loose off her shoulders. She looked at Logan, saying nothing.

"I'm chargin' you extra if you fuck up that room again."

"Yup."

"237."

"Thanks, Joe," Logan mumbled, swiping the key up off the grubby counter.

"Fuckin' weirdo," the guy grumbled to himself, turning the TV volume back up as she walked past.

Room 237 shared a wall with the boiler room that was clearly marked with a cracked and fading sign. Walking in felt like stepping into a tiny desert. A fan in the corner of the room churned out a failed excuse for a breeze, aimed over the bed. Paint was flaking off here, too, on the walls near the ceiling. Huge tears in it revealed bleached wallpaper underneath. The furniture was sparse and chipped. Logan ducked into the closet-sized washroom, emerging seconds later with towels in his arms.

"You wanna do it, or should I?" he asked, gesturing to the glass sticking out of her hips and legs. Shrugging off his jacket, she took pains to slip her arms free from the sleeves and leave them in one piece.

"I'll do it," she said, stepping onto the towels he dropped on the floor and sitting down in the middle. Her fumbling grip found a shard embedded deep in her thigh. With hands both numb and tingling, it was hard to get a grip on the glass as blood welled up from the disturbed wounds. With her claws extended and fingers slippery, moving the pieces at all was difficult, but trying to manoeuvre without disemboweling herself proved challenging. Her skin had healed around the glass, and it opened new holes with each bit she managed to tear loose.

"Fuck!" she swore in frustration as her hand slipped off a piece lodged in her abdomen, clawtips nicking her leg. After some minutes of cursing and wriggling, it came loose at last. Logan sank down onto the bed, disinterested in the spectacle and instead turning on the television. The voices and noise of a news broadcast gave her something else to focus on as she worked. Skin and muscles knitted together in seconds, her pain giving way to relief with each piece that fell onto the towels. After she could neither feel nor find any more, her shoulder still throbbed with stubborn, sharp pain. Gingerly she touched her palm to it and felt the shape of something hard underneath the skin. A heavy sigh escaping her, she looked up towards the bed.

"Hey," she said.

"What?"

"I need you to cut this out of my shoulder. I can't reach it with my hands like this. You got like... A knife or anything in your truck?"

"Yeah." He rolled off the bed and stood up, eyeing the bloodied pile of glass on the soaked towel. "You got the rest out?"

"Yep. Look here, it's under the skin," she said, gesturing with her chin. He crouched down and gripped her arm, raising his fist up as if about to punch her shoulder.

"Wha-" she began, but the words died in her throat as a blade slid from between his knuckles. Blood trickled from between his fingers, but the skin sealed up almost as fast as it had opened. Her eyes widened. "Jesus, y-you're just like me!" she sputtered, shocked. Wasting no time he drew a line from shoulder to elbow, splitting skin wide open. Doing her best to suppress a cry, she just managed to stay quiet and still. There was only dull pressure rather than pain as he grabbed something inside the wound, and in meeting her eyes before pulling it, he gave her a second to prepare. A scant second later, a chunk of safety glass fell to the floor with a thud. Relief flooding through her, the breath she was not aware of holding escaped in a rush.

"Always hurts more when someone else does it." He said, wiping his hands on the towel, watching her wounds melt away.

"Ugh," she grunted in agreement, touching her forehead to her wrist. "Thanks." The bed squeaked as he lay back down, and for the next few moments an uncomfortable silence reigned. He cleared his throat.

"Yours are metal, too," she said, breaking the silence. "How did that happen?"

"Probably the same way yours did."

"What was that place you found me in? Why were you there?" she asked, turning to look up at him. Logan found the remote, jamming at the unresponsive buttons to flick through static and what sounded like about five channels. Taking his time in answering, he settled on the news again and took a packet out from his pocket, unwrapping it to reveal more beef jerky.

"It was kind of a storage facility," he replied at last.

"Storage? I was in _storage_? Like a lawnmower in somebody's shed? Jesus."

"I guess so. As for why, I'll let good ol' Charlie talk to you about that, because I don't know."

"Charlie?" she asked. "Who's that?"

"He's in charge of a school for the gifted, as he calls us. And some other things."

"There are more people like us? I mean - I know there are many kinds, but people with claws, who can heal like we do. I get the feeling I've never met another before."

"There's... a few, yeah," he mumbled, fishing a piece of dried meat from the packet. Getting up from the pile of towels, she came to join him in watching TV.

"Hey, Jude," he said, and grinned before moving over to give her room to sit on the bed.

"Yeah?"

"You want some jerky?"


	2. Chapter 2 Instinct

Late into the night, Jude awoke with a start. The TV was off and the only light came from a power switch on the wall, glowing a faint orange. Not able to remember when or how she had fallen asleep, the feeling twisted in her gut that something was not right despite the apparent quiet in the run-down hotel room. Lying on her side she held her breath, listening. Out in the hall, a footfall creaked on the wooden floor - a step someone was trying and failing to disguise against her keen ears. Cold tore its way through her veins. Lying facing the wall with her heart pounding, the sharp scent of a different brand of adrenaline came up from beside her. Without a sound, he shifted on his side of the bed, touching his back lightly to hers.

_Good. He knows_.

Slipping her fists out of a pile of sheets that she had at some point during the night wrapped her hands in, she pulled herself up, looking over her shoulder and meeting his eyes.

'_Three_,' he signalled with his fingers. Pointing first at the door, then window, and the roof, he managed to lift himself off the squeaky mattress without making any noise. With her fingers still numb and movement obscured by her claws, signalling was difficult, but he seemed to understand when she gestured towards herself and the corner overlooking the tiny hallway that led to the door. For someone with as much bulk in muscle as he had, he made stealth look effortless as he stole across the room, taking up position in front of the window. Her breaths came steady and deep as she met his eyes for a split second, waiting for him to give a sign.

_I should be scared_, she thought, watching him press his back to the wall, ready to catch one of the intruders by surprise. _I should be terrified._ Instead, anticipation tingled down her spine like shocks of electricity when she took point. Imagining her fists rammed into the guts of whoever it was outside the door gave her a thrill that shivered its way down her body and through her limbs, held taut and ready to pounce.

He tapped his foot on the floor, but she didn't need his warning; Her blood ran high, instinct feeding her all the information she needed to know. The window bust open and the room rained glass as a figure in what looked like riot armour kicked its way in, only to sail straight into Logan's waiting claws. A shower of splinters shooting into the hallway, another shape barrelled in through the door. She lunged forward, catching him in the ribs. The armoured metal plates resisted for a fraction of a second before giving way. His body went rigid, her claws pinning him to the wall. After a second he slumped onto her fists, blood streaming down onto the floor. Jude pulled back, letting the body drop.

"Logan, where's the third-" Turning around she saw nothing but curtains billowing in the wind. A shadow fell from above in a graceless arc and crashed into the ground. The iron stench of blood and fear was thick in the air and wrinkling her nose, she skirted across the wet carpet, avoiding the glass and mess. Scuffling from above attracting her attention she dropped into a fighting stance, ready to attack but Logan dropped down onto the windowframe. Dropping her hands down by her side, she looked down at the lifeless form of the intruder who'd tried the window.

"Who were those guys?" She asked, nudging the body with her foot. The corpse's head lolled to one side, exposing the neck. _Green skin?_ Tilting her head and peering closer, it was definitely skin, and definitely green.

_This guy's a mutant!_

"Yeah yeah, it's okay. I'm fine. No need to panic," Logan grunted, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. He smirked, and despite herself she returned it, her heart slowing down as the rush began to fade. He rolled his head side to side and shrugged the leather over his shoulders. "You know, you handled yourself alright for someone who just fell out of a tank."

"Thanks," she said, drawn back to to examining the body. Etched into the shoulderplate the letters 'OOA' were encircled by what looked like a winged wheel ablaze with black flames. "Does this insignia mean anything to you?"

"Nope." Logan paused a moment, as if frozen on the spot. "We can't stay here."

"Yeah. Hey, I guess you fucked up the room again, huh?"

"We need to get you to Westchester." With that, Logan stepped through the remains of the door and headed down the hall. Starting after him, she realized what set him off seconds before. A distinctive _whup-whup-whup_ noise chopped at the air in the distance. _That won't be far away for long_. Jumping over the splinters, she followed him down past the lobby. Joe was nowhere in sight and the place looked more or less untouched.

"Who are these guys that they have air support?" she wondered aloud as they ran towards the truck. He fumbled with the keys a second before finally yanking the door open. Leaping in the passenger side, she whipped around, scanning the sky.

"They're still a ways off," he said over the rumble of the truck shuddering to life. Pushing the pedal to the floor, gravel flew out from under the tyres as they heaved out onto the road. "Keep lookout for me!" Minutes passed with nothing but the roar of the engine and the sound of helicopter blades, growing louder by the second.

"I'm assuming you've got a plan," she said without taking her eyes off the horizon. Tiny pinpricks appeared on a black shape blocking out stars as it moved. "That's them, coming up seven o'clo- _Oh_!" She fell backwards onto the glove compartment as Logan slammed the brakes. Her head hit the windshield hard, colours exploding in front of her eyes. The truck swerved, coming to a screeching halt.

"Outta the truck, into the woods!" He barked. Shaking her head to clear it, she flung the door open, leaping out to follow his lead even as wisps of colour danced at the corners of her vision. Branches slapped and scratched at her skin, welts from poison ivy disappearing quicker than they could rise as she pushed through the underbrush. Bolting over logs, roots and puddles she kept hot on his heels as he twisted between the trees. Slowing down, Logan stopped in front of an enormous cedar tree. Jude looked back the way they'd come, breathing hard and heavy.

"I don't hear the chopper anymore," she said, hands on her knees. "They've got to be on foot."

"These guys can't see as well as we can out here," he reasoned, glaring back into the shadows behind them. "Climb the tree. These kinds o' mooks never look up."

"Up…?" she echoed, unease creeping into her voice.

"Yeah, go!"

There was no time to argue. Burying her claws into the bark, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves before hauling her way up. Instinct grabbing hold of her movements, she scaled the trunk like a machine, jabbing her claws deep into the wood again and again until a thick branch caught her eye. Wide enough to support her weight, Jude let herself down a few feet to straddle it and shimmied out. Glancing out towards the ground below, reality set in. Every muscle locked up tight. Swallowing hard, she fought the sudden urge to hug the branch and never, ever let go.

"They're coming," he said, his voice next to her ear. Her mouth going dry as paper, she stared at the ground, transfixed.

_I am going to fall and my head is going to smash the ground so hard the last thing I'll see -_

"Jude," he said.

_- is my own ass coming right at my -_

"Jude!" he snapped, nudging her shoulder. His light prod triggered a frantic scramble to rebalance. Cold and slippery under her fingers, the tree didn't feel as solid now as it had just a moment ago. "Wake up!"

She blinked, breaking the spell.

"Sorry. Yes," she responded at last, blinking hard several times.

Logan sighed, his voice softening as he urged, "Jude, we don't got the time to be scared of heights right now. You're not gonna fall unless you do something stupid. You're fine. Okay?"

"Yes," she answered, nodding with her eyes wide as saucers.

"Even if you did do somethin' stupid and you fell, you'd be okay. One thing about adamantium is it gives ya one hell of a thick skull. Right?"

"Yes."

"You understand me? Or are you just sayin' yes a lot?"

"I'm okay." She forced herself to loosen up a little.

"Right. Now pay attention," he said, narrowing his eyes at movement in the distance. "You ever seen an eagle hunt?"

Swallowing, her gaze drew downwards again. This time her fear melted away, replaced by the thoughts of something old, primal, and most of all, _experienced_.

_There's no wind_, it said in a voice like a whisper. _It'll be a straight drop_. _Lead the target by three strides and keep your arms wide. It's almost insulting how easy it is._ Her body stopped quivering of its own accord.

"I'm not scared anymore," she breathed. "I think… I think I've done this kind of thing before."

"Yeah? I'm not surprised."

Lifting herself up into a crouch, she brought her focus onto the last man in the approaching group of three. A smaller branch above provided balance as she watched the line of shapes draw closer. _Noisy and undisciplined_, the voice noted. Peering at them, she somehow expected more of people who had helicopters at their disposal and whose tech armour looked bulletproof. Their goggles glowed a distinctive green in the darkness, illuminating foliage as they trampled on. She sniffed with annoyance. _Nightvision_. Logan twitched behind her - _Too soon_. The mysterious, instinctive force lifted her open palm, drawing her fingers into a fist to signal him to fall behind; A command which he followed. Lining herself up, she leaned forward, preparing to tip forward off the branch.

… _Not yet… Now._

Wind whistled in her ears as the ground - and her target's shoulders - rushed up towards her face. Jude's claws bit dirt as she landed on all fours, the force of the impact sending a second man sprawling. The bones inside her legs vibrated inside like a thrown knife and she staggered back in pain and confusion. _Where did he go?_ A curious sucking sound and a rush of air blew past her ears before something smashed into her back. Soil filled her mouth, and rolling to the side to avoid a boot to the chest, she sprang back onto her feet just as a shot rang out. A fist-sized hole in the flesh above her hip blew open, sending her down again with a cry of agony. Looking up towards her attacker, he stopped in his tracks as three blades grew out from his chest. Screaming, he dropped the gun which fell useless into the mud. His hands clutching at the sharp metal in vain, he dropped like a stone. Logan stood behind him wearing a scowl. Reaching down he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto her feet.

"No time for nappin'," he growled. Taking her hand away from the hole she revealed a jagged wound, already knitting back together, forming smooth skin within seconds.

"I missed," she hissed, her blood boiling in anger. "I don't miss."

"He was a teleporter."

The treetrunk next to Logan's head exploded in a hail of splinters. In the corner of her eye she caught the glint of metal and turned to face it, but he was already upon his assailant, sending ribbons of blood across the leaves. The faint but unmistakable smell of gunpowder and rubber blew by on the breeze and Jude tensed, overcome with the compulsion to follow. She set off, crashing through the foliage in hot pursuit. Zigzagging around bushes and under fallen branches, it wasn't long before she saw him, slipping in a muddy puddle ahead. Her fingernails dug into her palms again and again in anticipation. _He's running. He's running from me._ The thought sent tingles down her spine.

"No!" The man cried out, falling back into the puddle, his arms lifting in defense as she exploded out from the trees. Landing on his chest, she drove him deep into the mud. He choked and sputtered, the gurgling sounds coming up from his throat like music to her ears. A thought rammed its way through her brain. _Don't._ Jude hesitated, her claws feeling as if they were on fire, extended so far it was painful. _Let him go._ He wriggled, twisting, trying to shove her away. As if waking from a dream, she backed off, allowing him to scramble back, his breath loud and rattling even through the helmet. She was not done, however and stamped on his abdomen, pinning him back down.

"Who do you work for?" She roared, shaking with adrenaline. He thrashed, bringing his arm up to bear and she caught sight of the device in his hand too late. Pins shot out, drilling themselves into her gut.

All was quiet. Blinking, she looked down to see all six of her claws now buried up to the knuckles in his helmet. The taser lay in the puddle beside his twitching hand, throwing sparks into the air. Cold sweat trickling down the back of her neck, she blanched, realising, _Shit..._ _I don't remember hitting him..._

At first, her fists would not pull free, but after a hard wrench she came clear of the body and stood up. Her heart hammering fast and strong against her ribs, she looked from the corpse up towards patches of sky between the trees just beginning to brighten.

"Sorry," she said to nobody in particular.

_I just killed two people, and… I want to kill more. _The forest closed in around her, its shadows seeming to deepen and lengthen. The scent of salt and leather overpowered the stink of dirt and iron in the air.

"How long have you been standing there?" she muttered.

"Long enough. Let's go."

The walk back to the road was quiet save for the birds starting their dawn chorus. Jude looked down at her clothing, the strange one-piece now with a great hole torn in the side and the black fabric brownish and hard with dried blood.

"I look a little conspicuous," she mumbled.

"Mm, yeah," he replied, roused from deep thought. "Look. There's the truck."

"I was half expecting it to be on fire."

"Only half expecting?"

Crawling in the passenger's side, they looked together for signs of tampering. Finding nothing, they were soon on the road again. With the sky growing brighter, more cars appeared alongside them, and she found herself sinking further and further down into the seat to avoid being seen.

The truck bobbing up and down and the driver's side door slamming shut with Logan's apparent return from somewhere startled her awake. Sunlight streamed in through the windshield forcing her to squint groggily out the window.

"I don't remember falling asleep."

Dumping a few plastic bags beside her and and she sat up, a ragged blanket falling from around her shoulders. _Logan's doing,_ she thought with a yawn, casting a curious look over at him starting the truck. He jammed the key in the ignition without a word and backed out onto the highway. One of the bags smelled delicious and he stuffed his hand in it, fishing around.

"You're hungry," he said. "Eat."

"Thank you," she said as he dropped a wrapped burger in her lap, avoiding her claws. Eating it was tricky exercise with them in the way. Her stomach seemed to wake up as soon as she downed the first bite and it didn't seem likely to let up either, growling even after the last of the food disappeared.

"The rest of what's in there is clothes for you."

"Thanks. Thanks, you know. A lot," she said. Words failed her and she flushed. _So much is going on._ Sliding a hooded sweatshirt out of one of the plastic bags, she unfolded it. Emblazoned across the chest was a leaping big cat.

"It was cheap," he mumbled, like an excuse.

"I don't care. It's great. Thanks." She smiled at him before pulling over the second bag, taking a peek inside. _It's true. I do like it, but I wonder if my tastes before were different? I wonder what kinds of things I liked._

"Logan, do you think I'll ever remember who I am?"

"Don't count on it," he replied, reaching over to flick on the radio. "I'm not lookin'. Put yer clothes on."


	3. Chapter 3 Black Sheep

The new clothes felt good and soft against her skin, and despite the claws jutting from her hands she felt comfortable enough to ease back into the seat and watch houses go by. The truck bounced as they rolled into a gas station. As Jude watched him head inside to pay, she became aware of all the tension leaving her shoulders. She couldn't put a finger on it, but something had her feeling more relaxed. Perhaps it was the miles growing between them and the grisly scene in the forest that morning, or that on the long open sections of road, he'd taken to leaning back and letting his elbow hang out of the open window, giving the impression he was a little less guarded. Whatever it was she found herself enjoying it and elbowed the door open for him when he returned bearing cups and a newspaper.

"Hey, you're in the news," he said and grinned, passing it to her.

'_Pharmaceutical Storage Facility Destroyed by Fire_,' read the headline.

"Many items were lost in the blaze last night," she read aloud. "Including highly valuable testing equipment and tissue samples, the exact nature of which are classified and rumoured to be Office of Biohazard Containment and Mutant Safety property."

"'Rumoured' is right," he said and snorted, passing her a styrofoam cup. The coffee was warm and fragrant, and she took it eagerly, peering down at a blurry picture of a wasted building on the front page.

"Thanks. So, I assume I'm the tissue samples they're talking about?"

"Nope," he said between swigs of coffee. "You're the testing equipment."

"Mmm, great," she said, looking at him over the rim of the cup and taking a slow sip. "Hey, this doesn't taste like regular coffee. What is it? It's nice."

"They got some flavoured cream things in there, I dunno."

"You know, I really get the impression I'm not the first person you've dragged out of a place like that," she said, leafing through the paper.

"Nope. You're not," he replied, starting the engine.

"So is that your job? Is that what you do?"

"It's more of a hobby," he replied. She smiled, turning her gaze from the pages out onto the road again.

"I see."

"It's not like this happens every weekend or something, though. Most of the time they remember a lot more than you seem to, too."

"What's in Westchester again?" she asked.

"It's a place for mutants. Kind of a school. Charlie's the guy who owns the place."

"Do you think he can fix my claws?" she asked, staring down at the blades, still locked in place.

"Depends what ya mean by fix," he said, shifting in his seat. "But probably. We'll be there in about an hour, so you can find out then."

"You must be tired," she said. He did not answer, instead winding down his window.

"You know, I don't really know how to introduce myself. It's sort of awkward."

"What, Jude the Expensive Piece of Testing Equipment doesn't do it for ya?" Logan replied at last, leaning on the open window.

"Not especially. I'd like to have a kind of identity. I assume I had one once."

Logan drew breath as if about to speak, but seemed to think better of it. He pointed up past a series of fields, where modern buildings appeared on the horizon. Sunlight gleamed off the many windows of the tallest structure.

"Just keep trying things until you find what you like," he mumbled. "Or until you remember something."

"Hey, nothing beats being kicked in the head while a building burns down around me as a first memory, though right? I guess that's an icebreaker."

"You forgot the glass, the shotgun and the dead guys," he said, grinning at her wry remark.

People in uniforms dotted the landscape, enjoying the sunny weather. She watched a couple throw a frisbee to and fro as they passed by, a sharp contrast to their night of blood and violence.

"Yeah. I'd sort of like to leave those bits out."

"Seemed like you had all that under control. You got nice form," he said, shrugging a shoulder. "You don't move like that without a _lot_ of practise, is all I'm gonna say."

"You're starting to sound like you know something."

"Nah. I've just been in this game a long time."

Parking in front of a brick wall next to tall wrought iron gates, a brass plaque set in the wall caught her eye and Jude hopped out onto the pavement to get a closer look. It read, _Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters._

"Gifted youngsters, eh?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at Logan.

"Yup." He tapped some numbers on a keypad and the gates swung open. Stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets he ambled towards the central building, staring straight ahead. People in black and grey uniforms sat on the grass reading books and chatting loudly amongst themselves, none looking up from their activities at Logan and Jude's arrival. More than a few were obviously mutants and she couldn't help but glance a little longer at a young woman with red hair as she manipulated a ball of fire in her hand, talking with a man covered in green scales, his tail lashing.

Distracted as she was, Jude walked straight into Logan's back having stopped suddenly. Muttering under his breath she followed his gaze towards as a tall man in a different, darker uniform and wearing a visor, waving them over. Ignoring him, he yanked on the door handle. It didn't budge. Looking in the direction of the other man, now striding towards them, he snorted.

"Typical."

"Just a minute now, Wolverine. You don't have clearance," he said. He was huge, well over six feet by Jude's estimation and towered over her and Logan both.

"I'll give you 'clearance' in a minute, bub," he snarled. The sharp scent of aggression hit her hard and Jude took a step back, drawing her fists flush with her hips as she appraised the situation. _Wolverine? I thought his name was Logan? Is that some kind of codename? Who is this guy? He's not going to attack us, is he?_ As if in response, the tall man turned his head, appearing to study her a moment - she couldn't be sure as the visor blocked his eyes - but he turned back towards Logan.

"I'm sick of you just disappearing for days without notice. If there'd been a situation and the team had needed you-"

"I was busy," Logan snapped, his fingers still resting on the door handle.

"That's irrelevant. Your communicator is supposed to be on at all times."

"Um, Logan? Is something wrong here? Is this guy your boss?" she interjected, her gaze flicking from one to the other, confused. Both looked at her.

"No, Jude, this _boy scout_ ain't my boss," Logan replied through his teeth before glaring up at him. "And you'd better remember that real quick, Cyclops."

"Who is this person you've brought with you unannounced?"

"Xavier knows we're comin'. I got a lot of things to do. Get out of my way," he said, his voice dropping lower, becoming more threatening. Jude looked down to see his claws poking through the skin between his knuckles. Cyclops tapped his visor in what looked like a nonchalant gesture, but she guessed better, her breath catching in her throat. _This really isn't going to end well._

"Oh, any time, prettyboy," Logan said, taking his hand from the doorknob. As he and Cyclops took a step towards one another, Jude opened her mouth in protest. Before she could speak, the door opened and both men stopped in their tracks, watching as a bald man in a grey suit and sat in a wheelchair rolled out into the sunshine.

"Good afternoon, miss," he said, addressing Jude first and folding his hands in his lap. "I'm glad to see that you arrived in one piece."

Logan brushed past Cyclops, his hands in his jacket pockets as he stalked off down the hall, disappearing around a corner and leaving her with the two unfamiliar men. She cleared her throat, looking from one to the other. _This is suddenly very awkward,_ she thought. _I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting though. A warm welcome?_

"Uh, hello. I'm, uh, Jude. Pleased to meet you, sir."

"I am Professor Charles Xavier, and of course you've already met Scott Summers," he said, nodding towards Cyclops as he gave some kind of signal, excusing him from the conversation. "I believe you have some questions? If you'll follow me to my office, I shall address them as best I can there."

Jude looked at her reflection in a brushed steel section of the hallway. The place felt like a little fortress and she had a suspicion the building served as more than a simple school. Passing into a much older looking section, they rounded a corner before finally coming to a stop in front of large and ornate wooden doors. Jude blinked in surprise as Xavier's chair floated into the office - the wheelchair hadn't any actual wheels at all! He settled in behind a large oak desk and folded his hands, seeming to radiate calm.

"Please, take a seat," he said, gesturing towards one of the many chairs.

"Alright…" she said, trying to position her hands so as not to slice into the leather seats with her claws. Placing her palms flat on the armrests, she let them hang free in the air, frowning.

"Please, do try and relax. Chairs are easily replaceable. You, however, are not."

Taking a deep breath, she tried to follow his suggestion. Feeling the blades pull together and slip back, she looked down in surprise. Cold metal sliding up into her arms, Jude rubbed at the unpleasant sensation and the persistent ache began fading at once.

"Oh wow, that feels so much better. They really shouldn't be stuck like that. It hurts having them out for so long."

"Perhaps it is a reaction to stress? Logan tells me you have been fearing for your life since he found you," Xavier suggested, watching Jude as she flexed her fingers, feeling returning to them.

"I thought his communicator was off?"

"It was, however I am able to reach most people when I need to. I am a mutant, like you, and I was born with the gift to detect thoughts and communicate telepathically."

"So you can read my mind?" she asked.

"Yes, that is correct... Though I do not intrude upon unwilling minds. You, however, need no intruding. The confused thrashings of your psyche would be apparent, perhaps even overpowering, to even the most latent of telepaths. With your consent, I may be able to shed some light on your situation."

"What do I need to do?"

""Merely open your mind to me, and I shall do the rest."

Bugs erupted from under her skin, swarming over every inch of flesh and Jude leapt from her seat. Her whole body tingled with the sensation of billions of tiny legs scratching, biting, eating her. As quickly as it arrived, the feeling disappeared and left her staring down at herself in disbelief. There were no trace of insects anywhere. It wasn't real.

"Wh-what the hell was that?"

"That," said Xavier, leaning back in his chair, folding his hands on the desk as his brows came together in consternation, "is the hallmark of a very skilled telepath. Whoever buried your memories so deep in your mind has left mental blocks behind them, evidently as a countermeasure against other telepaths. It may be possible to undo what has been done and see what they were so desperate to keep from you, but it will take time."

"I want to find whoever did this to me, whatever it takes. I need to know how I ended up in that place."

"The X-Men and I will do all we can to help you, Jude. You will be safe here for as long as you wish to stay."

"The... X-Men?" she asked, returning to her seat.

"The X-Men are a group of specially trained mutants who work with me here to realise the dream of peace between us and humans. We work to train young mutants how to use their gifts for the benefit of humanity. Most of the X-Men teach as professors here in the institute."

"I see," she said. "Does Logan teach? Is that what he does?"

Xavier hesitated a second before responding, taking care in choosing his next words.

"Very occasionally, he will offer combat focused training to students, but he has a strong preference for solitude and that makes teaching classes on a regular basis difficult for him."

"Yeah. I understand. I thought I'd ask because he's just, well. The only person I know, really." She cleared her throat. "Well, sir, I have no place else to go, and I'll help you if you help me. Since I don't remember anything at all, it makes sense that I take some time to try and learn about myself."

"Indeed. A wise decision."

"Where am I, you know, going to stay?" she asked and scratched the back of her neck. Being able to do so felt nice, and she smiled in silent appreciation.

"I'll have Logan show you. I think it's best that you do try and rest for now. We shall hold a formal introduction for you to the others whenever you are ready. He'll be here momentarily."

"Thank you," she said, hoping her tone conveyed the humble gratitude she felt.

_I'd better not fuck this up._ "Before I go I wanted to ask as well, on the way here when Logan and I stopped to rest for a while, we were attacked. Do you know -" As she spoke, the door opened behind her. Jude's hands quivered and she looked down just in time to see her claws crunch into the desk. Pain burned through her forearms, the ache returning with a vengeance.

"Wha-! Why?" she cried in alarm, yanking back in reflex.

_Go away, go away!_ she willed, but nothing happened. Looking first at her hands, blood streaming between her fingers, then back at Xavier, her eyes wide with confusion, she stammered, "I-I didn't mean -"

"I know," he said. "I understand," He blinked in surprise, but was otherwise unfazed.

"Dammit, your desk," she said staring at the holes, dismayed. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened."

"I am not concerned with the desk," he replied, gesturing for the figure at the door to step in. "I am far more concerned with you. That you could not control what just happened would seem to indicate that perhaps whoever is behind your repressed memories also saw fit to leave some post-hypnotic suggestions or subconscious mental conditioning there too. Something I'm afraid to say that I see all too often," He said, and shook his head, sighing. Xavier looked up and nodded in greeting to Logan before returning his attention to Jude. "In the interest of making your life a little easier whilst you try to adjust to your situation, would you be willing to allow me to try something?"

"Uh, sure?" Seconds later, her body relaxed seemingly of its own accord, and she found herself slumping against the back of the chair, her eyelids heavy. It felt as if someone was tugging on the tendons inside her arms, and looking down she watched her limp wrists pulled straight as the claws slid inch by inch back under the skin. Her pulse throbbing behind her eyes as she sat up, she murmured,

"How did you do that?"

"Until we are able to fully examine the problem, I was able to isolate the area of your brain responsible for controlling the blades' extension."

"That doesn't sound healthy," she replied, shifting in her seat.

"Trust ol' Charlie, Jude. He knows what he's doin'. Besides, now you're not going to go around punchin' holes in the wall every time you get excited," Logan said, standing a few feet behind her. Xavier gave him a look she couldn't read.

"It is easy to reverse," he went on to assure her. She nodded.

_I don't like being without them, but..._ she thought, her gaze coming to rest on the six holes in the wood. _He's right._

"Come on. I got things to do," Logan said.

"Yeah. Thank you, Professor Xavier, for everything."

"Think nothing of it, miss. I shall see you tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4 The Rising Sun

"Look, all I'm saying is that I don't know how to deal with him anymore."

"Come on, Scott. It's just the way he is. He's been like that since the beginning. It's not going to change any time soon. You need to accept him as he is."

Jude's ears twitched. Grabbing the nearest of the several pillows stacked beside her, she slapped it over her head, rolling over for the umpteenth time.

"I know what kind of man he is and I respect that. He doesn't need to be a social butterfly. What I can't handle is when he puts other people in danger just to satisfy whatever urge he's feeling at the moment," the voices carrying from down the hall continued on, ringing in her sensitive ears and waking her from a light sleep full of bizarre dreams. As the voices and footsteps drew nearer still, she sighed in defeat. Despite her best efforts, anything at all was keeping her up - the scrape of a shoe turning a corner, the quiet banter in the common room down the hall...

_A pin drop would wake me up,_ she thought, groaning in irritation. _Right, well. I'm awake now. Again._ Groping about for her pants, she pulled them up around her hips and glanced in the mirror, tousling her short sandy-coloured hair in a cursory effort to look presentable. Framed by dark circles, her reflection stared back at her, listless and shaky.

_Ugh. Well, fuck it, I guess. Where did Logan say the kitchen was?_

"What worries me is that he could influence -"

Jude opened her door, stepping out into the hallway, barefoot for lack of shoes, but otherwise dressed. Blinking in the bright lights of the corridor, she brushed Cyclops' shoulder as he and a woman with long red hair turned the corner.

"Sorry 'bout that," she mumbled in apology.

"Not that much of an influence, see?" the woman said to him, a smile evident in her voice. Turning to Jude, she remarked, "Hey there, you're up early."

"Oh. Late, actually, I guess. I can't sleep," she replied, hanging one hand from the back of her neck and offering a tired, but polite smile. "I'm not quite awake really. Just, uh. Gonna go find something to eat if that's okay."

"Of course. I'm Jean, by the way. Jean Grey," she said, offering her hand. Jude exchanged handshakes.

"Jude. But, I'm sure you knew that already. Um... Scott, right? Or Cyclops, which one?"

"It's Cyclops while I'm in uniform. Otherwise, Scott is fine," he replied.

"I'm sorry if my arrival caused any problems. I sort of... got the impression, you know?"

"It's not your fault, Jude. Wolverine is one of the X-Men and he knows the protocol. Don't let it concern you," he said. She nodded.

"Right. Okay. Well, nice meeting you both. Er, again." She nodded towards Scott. "I'm headed the right way, right? Logan said it was this way but he was kind of mumbling." Jean gave her a knowing smile.

"Yeah, it's just down the hall, take the fourth right."

Kitchen appliances gleaming chrome against black countertops, their shine was overshadowed by a hulking figure hanging from crossbeams of some sort by its feet. It was huge, and to Jude's mild surprise - Blue. She was sure she'd seen oddly coloured mutants many times before but... Odd sizes? The shape turned around suddenly.

"Oh, my stars and garters!" he exclaimed, and reached up to adjust some silver wire-framed spectacles perched on his nose. "Ah! Yes, you must be the young woman Logan brought with him. We've heard all about you. Have a seat. My, but you're up early?"

"Late, actually," she said and cleared her throat. "Can't sleep."

"I see. Shame. Well, you're in good company here," he said, nodding in the direction of a small table past the countertop, where Logan sat with a thin man with scruffy hair, playing cards. He held a pan and spatula upside down in his other hand, seeming to remember it with a start. "Oh. Omelettes," he said, grinning. His teeth were long and pointed. "Would you like one?"

"Please."

Flipping over a mass of eggs and cheese on the pan, he then deposited it onto a plate which he handed to her.

"Doctor Hank McCoy, madam. Wouldn't you know, I've heard all about you save your name?"

"She's called Jude," Logan shouted across, his empty can of lager clacking on the table as he slammed it down. "Jude, Hank, Hank, Jude," he mumbled, waving his hand dismissively.

"A little slow to the draw, friend."

"What, Gambit gets no introduction?" The third man drawled. She could not place his accent.

"He's a Cajun," Logan grunted in response to the question she hadn't asked. "And he's still not dealt the cards. So no, he doesn't get an introduction. Deal the damn cards."

"Why don't we offer the lady a hand?"

"She doesn't want to play cards with you, Gambit."

Gambit leaned his arm over the chair's backrest and winked at her.

"Aww, nevermind him. He thinks Gambit gonna cheat you."

Jude grinned back at him, looking at the pile of chips on the table. Gambit had most of them. "Hank, how about you?" he asked.

"I would partake, but I'm afraid I've work to attend to. Stop by the Lab if you feel so inclined, Jude. Pleasure to meet you."

"Thanks, Dr McCoy."

"Please, just Hank," he said, dropping from the crossbeams. Despite his size, he flipped over to land on his feet without a sound, downing his own food in the blink of an eye.

"Isn't it a bit early to be drinking beer and playing cards?" She asked the men at the table, grabbing a fork from a nearby bin of utensils. Pulling up a chair, she cut into the omelette. "I think I'm alright just to watch."

"Just as well," Logan said, shrugging as he cracked open another can. "He cheats."

"Gambit doesn't cheat, Gambit _wins_," he said, chuckling."Five chips, one for each card." The two stacked their bets in front of their hands, then picked up the cards. Looking up at them, she noted Gambit leaning back in his seat, chewing on a toothpick. Logan looked sour.

_Well, let's just see what the flop is._

"Gambit bets," he drawled, yawning as he dropped a chip into the stack.

"Call," Logan muttered. She reached over to her own small reserves and added a second chip to her wager.

Three cards fluttered onto the table. Ten of Spades, Queen of Clubs, Queen of Hearts. Nothing.

"Gambit bets." A chip entered the pot with a 'clink.'

"Yeah. Call." Clink.

She crossed one leg over the other and leaned on the table, her attentions now back on finishing the omelette, which was in fact quite delicious.

"You should take a page from her book and just not play, Logan No-Pennies." He gestured towards the little stack of chips with a lazy flick of his hand before a fourth card - a Jack of Hearts - joined the centre of the table, a chip rolling in close behind. "Bet."

Jude sat chewing her food and watching the two, her eyes flicking back and forth between them. Logan gave away his thoughts more easily than she expected. His eyes lingered on the cards and chips in the middle just a little too long and he took a swig of beer.

_Buying time,_ she guessed. _His hand must be terrible. Why doesn't he just fold?_ In stark contrast to Logan's brooding Gambit leaned back in his seat, his face a friendly mask as he studied his opponent. A chip hit the pot. So too did the Ace of Hearts, and this time Gambit looked bored.

"All in," he said, balancing on the back legs of his chair.

"All in, eh? I'm callin' you, bub," he said with a wolfish grin, slapping his cards down face up. With a King of Hearts and Ten of Clubs on the table, his hand won the game. Gambit's face fell in disbelief as he dropped his own cards. "My straight beats all four of your queens, no matter how fine those ladies are. Pay up."

"Ah, Gambit is done playing for now," he said, winking at Jude. "It seems that Lady Luck sat down at the table just in time for Logan tonight."

"Yup. Next time we're in town, drinks are on you. For months, by the size of this pile." He grinned, leaning back to nurse his beer.

"It looks that way."

"Whaddya mean, looks that way? Chips are all here and they're all mine. It _is_ that way, Cajun."

"Double or nothing?"

"Nice try."

"So, Jude, why can't you sleep?" Gambit asked, picking up the deck.

"Yeah, what's the matter with you? You sick or somethin'?"

"Well, it's hard to say really, but everything is really bright, and too loud. Nothing moves or even smells like it should," she said, shifting in her seat, self-conscious at her awkward description. Logan reached for another can of beer from a case beside him, but he appeared to be listening. Clearing her throat, she continued, "I'm just not used to all the voices around, you know? Of course, it could just be that the last time I drifted off, some guys with guns busted into the room. I'm sort of on edge."

Logan cracked a new can open and knocked the empty one across the table towards a growing pile.

"Ah, yes," Gambit said, nodding thoughtfully. He stood up, walking towards the coffee maker in the corner of the room where he grabbed two mugs off a shelf. "This place, it can take some getting used to. Logan tells Gambit you came out of a glass case. Must have been very quiet in there, no?"

"I assume so."

"Asides our breakfast bachelor's club, you meet anybody else?"

"Scott and uh, Jean, on my way here."

"Jean? Yeah? How is she?" Logan asked, piping up with apparent interest. She noticed as Gambit rolled his eyes.

"She seemed alright to me," she said and tilted her head, curious at his sudden shift in tone. "Why, is something wrong with her?"

"No. Jus' haven't seen her in a while," he grumbled. Gambit returned to the table, placing a mug in her hands before turning to Logan.

"Hmm, you know, Storm is teaching Hand-to-Hand in the Danger Room this morning. Gambit is running a new sim for the class. You and Jude should try it out. What you think, eh? You are much better than Storm at this kind of thing. Er, don't tell her Gambit said so."

"Danger Room?" she asked between sips. "What's that?"

"He hasn't told you? Logan, you are a poor host! Still, Gambit would like to see you test it, and it would be fun to see Jude in action, no?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll come. It's been a while."

"Good. It's the least you can do anyway after pulling a straight flush out like that against four queens. So irritating." Gambit downed most of the coffee before even sitting down, pointedly looking away from him. Logan grinned, shaking his head.

"Anyways, Jude. The Danger Room. I may as well just show you what it is, so hurry it up."


	5. Chapter 5 Dog and Butterfly

"This is what all the fuss is about? I'm not sure I understand," said Jude as she and Logan stepped into a black room, yellow grid lines spanning the walls.

"Give it a minute."

As if on cue, the walls melted away. Their surroundings reformed into a football field bordered with trees, a grey sky roiling above.

"Holograms?" she asked.

"Yup. Can make it do anything. Gambit always goes more for theatrics than function though. I expect this'll look pretty but be really simple. Probably no hazards or anythin'. Just wants us to scrap a bit. Knowin' him he'll have made bets or somethin'."

Even knowing it was not real could not change how solid the ground felt underfoot, or how real the smell of ozone on the breeze was, carried by the rumble of distant thunder.

"This place is amazing!" She exclaimed aloud, floodlights clunking as they illuminated the field one by one. One of them began sparking, making it difficult to focus. Something in the back of her neck tingling, her fists then burned with the familiar sting of her claws erupting.

"I thought Xavier was stopping my claws from coming out?" she shouted to be heard over the torrential rain whipping up.

"Not in here!" Came his reply with wave of his hand, gesturing to the now invisible walls.

"So that's it? No ceremony about it? No rules? No count to three before we start?" she called. _I like this. I really, really like this._

"You look pretty sure how this goes down already. Why waste time?"

Thunder crashed. Mud and grass squishing between her toes with each step, she kept her eyes locked with his. Circling like dogs, it became clear in her mind what she had to do. All her worries and fatigue evaporated, leaving only the moment, and only his claws coming for her head.

Time slowed. Metal sang out, sparking as they met and she twisted, trying to throw him off balance but he was already away. Pain shot across her thigh and a few drops of blood soaked into ripped denim. The cuts were shallow, sealing back up within seconds - it was obvious he was holding back. Lashing out, his retreat was cut short with a swipe of her own and they parted, circling again. Logan was short - by Jude's estimation, roughly the same height as herself - but he was strong, and knew how to keep his balance. Claws locking again like fighting stags, she grit her teeth as his bit her hands to the bone, showing a glint of silver. Although able to dart between his blows, striking back felt as effective as throwing a fork at a brick wall, and Jude was soon exasperated.

Breathing heavy from his last attack, she looked up to see him thundering towards her and it was all she could do to brace for impact. His shoulder ramming into her open hands,her heels lost their purchase in the mud, sliding backwards. As he lost momentum, the white of his shirt caught her attention. Seizing the opportunity, she raked blades down the length of his back. His grip clamping around her ankle, they crashed into the mud, her knees jabbing into his gut. Wind whistling in her ear, his claws sliced past, digging into the ground beside her. Jude took the brunt of a blow. The hit was much harder than before and she sucked a breath in through her teeth, redoubling her efforts to shove him off.

Wind and rain slashing at her vision, she struck out, claws burying themselves through his palm. Trapping them between the bones of his hand, he twisted her arm hard. Her back grinding into the mud and blinded by the rain, she could just make out his shadow closing in. He wasn't quick enough, her kick landing square in his chest and winding him.

The tables reversed in an instant. As he fell down, she sprang up, digging her muddy knees into his ribs. Their claws locking, sparks spat into the air with the strain as Jude managed to hold her own against his strength. Rolling him, gravity was now on her side. Forcing all her weight into it and ignoring the pain of his claws slicing marks into her silvery bones had his resistance letting up bit by bit. Warmth coursed through her veins. That animal inside her felt good, as if it were stretching under the sun. Winning felt good, but she did not get to savour the feeling for long.

Shrugging her off with a surge of strength, he used the momentum to get to his feet. _He's not tired at all_, she realised, narrowing her eyes against the rain. _He was letting me win!_

"'S'enough for now," he said, blades drawing back, ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he turned around without another word, heading for the door.

Jude felt warm, breathing hard with exertion. Watching the field and the mud fade away, leaving only bare walls as before she realised she was no longer wet, the clods of dirt caking her body gone. The only sign that any of it was real at all were the tears, holes and nicks in her clothing. Looking over them, she frowned, the victory they represented meaningless.

"You shouldn't just let me win," she said, shaking her head as her breathing returned to normal. He raised his eyebrow at the remark, saying nothing and picking up his jacket before hitting the door release. As he shrugged it over his shoulders she noticed his white undershirt hanging in tatters. "Sorry about your shirt," she said, but couldn't help smiling as they passed through the doors and out into the hall.

"I go through a lot of these."

"Yeah, I guess so. You must have boxes of them."

"Not far from the truth."

"You say there's a class coming around here soon?"

"Mhm," he said, leaning back against the wall outside the doorway, seeming lost in thought. Her tired shoulders hit the wall next to him, slumping. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, her heart beating at the back of her throat. _Man I'm starved._

Looking down, she examined the smooth skin showing between rips in the fabric of her jeans that Logan's claws left behind. _It really takes a lot out of you to heal this fast._

"Hey." Logan gestured for her to follow.

"Aren't we sticking around for this class?" she asked as she fell in stride beside him, her hands slipping into her pockets. He shrugged.

"Decided I don't feel like it. Gambit will have watched that little tussle anyway."

Dawn's pale colours washed over the grounds. Blinking as she stepped into the light, the chill of night still hung in the air. Shivering, she crossed her arms tight. They came to a stop, but not in front of his truck as she suspected. Instead, Logan pulled out a ring of keys, flicking through them one by one as he approached a motorbike leaning on a kickstand, its newly polished black chassis glinting in the morning sun. Swinging his leg over the seat he looked back at her with an expectant expression. She offered a soft smile, hopping onto the back seat and placing her arms around his middle.

"Where are we going?" she asked over the cough of the engine.

"Ain't too far. Jus' down the road."

Cold air rushing through her hair, the warmth of the sun on her skin felt good as they leaned into a turn. A sudden sense of déjà vu overcame her, a distant memory trying to surface, but it disappeared again like an orca beneath ice. Rather than get caught up in the sting of not knowing what that memory was, she narrowed her eyes, concentrating instead on the pleasant feel of sunlight and wind. The moment passed as she realised he'd hit the brakes and they were slowing down.

The place was covered in a layer of grime, dried mud and rain marks - a stark contrast to the immaculate, almost manicured look of the buildings they had been surrounded by earlier. Its sides were corrugated in the style characteristic of cheap portable walls and as they stepped up into the foyer she noticed flat, cracked tyres underneath its corners. The smell of toast, coffee and grease wafted out the small windows. As she walked in a neon sign that read 'Jilly's' blinked by her shoulder. Once inside, Logan brushed past the waitress and made it straight to a table next to an open window. Despite the ramshackle appearance of the outside, the inside was clean and the seats comfortable.

The clicking of heels on tile grew louder as a woman holding a tray and a notepad approached. An unlit cigarette hung from her lips and putting pen to paper, she took a second look at Jude and paused, arching her eyebrow.

"Must be serious if you're bringing her here, hun," she said.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get what I usually get."

"Sure. Where've you been anyhow? Ain't seen your sunny smile around these parts in some time."

"I been around," he said and shrugged. The corners of her eyes crinkled in a smile.

"So I see. What'll it be?"

"I'll have whatever it is he's having, please," Jude replied, folding her hands on the table.

"Sure thing, sweetie." As she finished scribbling in her pad she turned to Logan, poking him in the shoulder with her pen. "Hope you've been doin' alright, hun. Let me get you two some coffee."

"Have you seen 'em since?" he grunted in the waitress' direction as she turned away.

"Not hide nor hair," she said over her shoulder, heading to the kitchen.

"What was that all about?" Jude asked.

"Ah, Some guys used to come around here and give the girls trouble."

"I'm beginning to notice a pattern with you, you know."

"Eh? What's that?"

"You do good things for people," she replied, shrugging one shoulder.

The waitress returned, pouring out coffee and leaving behind a few packets of sugar and creamer. Jude tore the top off one and dumped the contents into the black liquid, relishing the scent.

"Sometimes it's just convenient," he said, picking up his mug and bringing it to his lips.

"Uh-huh," she replied, curling the empty sugar wrapper around her finger.

"So, you remember anything yet?" he asked.

"Not specifically. I get little flashes or echoes of things every now and then. But, being on a motorcycle was pretty familiar," she said, squinting, dropping the wrapper in favour of picking up a paper menu from a nearby stack. She folded it this way and that, being careful to crease the edges.

"Yeah, I figured you'd like that kind of thing."

"I want a bike of my own."

"What for?"

"What do you mean, 'what for?' Same reason you've got one. You know, ride off into the sunset," she said, smiling, continuing to fold. Making it felt comforting, as if it were something she had done many thousands of times before. Turning the paper over and over, she asked, "Since talking about me is pretty useless right now, where are you from?"

"Canada. Northwest. But I been thinkin'. I think you're from the great white north, too."

"Yeah? Hmm. What makes you say that?" Looking up from her folding, she studied his expression. Though appearing relaxed, one ankle resting on his knee, arms draped on the back of the booth - she got the impression he was deflecting the question.

"It's in the way you say certain words. I got my suspicions," he said, returning to his coffee.

"I actually hadn't thought of that. I guess we do sound slightly different from the Americans around here. It sounds like you come to this little diner pretty often. Do you live here? At the mansion?"

"I come and go."

"Am I bothering you by asking you stuff about yourself? I can stop if you want, I'm just curious. I want to get to know you a bit better, I guess," she said, flipping the half-formed paper animal over to continue. It was becoming a four legged animal of some kind, created from muscle memory. He looked out the window through slits in the blinds, eyes narrowing in displeasure as he tracked something, before answering,

"I just don't talk about myself very much."

"What's outside?"

"Nothin.' Just some kids who shouldn't be here. Some students."

"I see. Should we go tell 'em off?" she asked.

"Nah. Maybe later."

"Are they your students?"

"Sometimes," he replied, still staring out the window. "I'm more of a guest lecturer or something like that. When I'm around and I'm not too busy, I teach 'em how to defend themselves."

"That sounds like it could be fun sometimes. I don't know where I'd even start with something like that. Everyone's so different." She felt his gaze on her as she worked.

"What are you making?"

"Actually, I don't know. It was something of a compulsion and I'm just going with it. I think it looks like a tiger," she said, placing the finished figure on the table. Its long rectangular body extended out into a thick tail and boxy head.

"Looks a bit more like a lion to me. The tigers I've seen have ribbed sides to show the paper. Makes stripes when you got the proper paper," he said, picking it up and turning it over in his hand.

"You fold? I didn't take you for the type."

"Nah. Knew someone who did. Long time ago now." He placed the little paper figure back down.

"Lady lion it is then," she said, stomach growling as she watched the waitress coming around from the kitchen door, bearing plates.

The food was good, much better than whatever she expected to come out of a greasy spoon's kitchen. Taking no time to polish it off, she looked out the window. The road stretched out under a grey sky, bordered with tall pines. The two students Logan had seen before were sitting on a broken concrete pylon outside. A twitchy, weedy looking boy looked to be examining Logan's bike, too cautious to touch it, as if the thing were alive and going to jump on him any second.

"They're poking around your bike," she said, lifting her fingers away from the blinds, letting them snap straight again.

"Yeah, that's Malcolm. Calls himself Gecko or something like that. He's always eyeing it up."

"Can't blame him too much. It's a nice one."

"Heh. If you had one, where would you go?"

"Hmm. I haven't thought that far ahead. Just the sunset I guess," she said. He gave her a knowing smile.

"Yeah, that's as good an answer as any. I'm the same. I go where I wanna go."

"Must be nice. You always go it alone?" she asked, taking a sip from her mug. Looking as if he were about to reply, he stopped, leaning out of his seat to watch the door. A young woman walked in with purpose in her steps, followed at her heels by Malcolm, his tongue flicking across his lips nervously. Logan's demeanour changed in an instant.

"Hey," he barked in their direction, shooting them a surly stare. The young man almost leapt out of his skin. "Emma. Malcolm. What are you two doing in here again? You're supposed to be in class. Get back to it. Now."

"We were sent to find you," Malcolm replied, wringing his hands.

"Bullshit. You two play hookie in here all the time. I don't care when it's algebra or something but this is important. Get going."

"It seems you're playing hookie yourself this morning," said Emma, tossing her long red hair from her eyes. "Shall we tell Gambit you're busy?"

"I don't care what you tell him. Go. Now," he growled. Malcolm rushed to comply, already out the door. Emma rolled her eyes at the spot he had been a second before.

"Ugh. I reckon I'll sprout a cock long before Malcolm ever grows a spine," Emma muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Jude to overhear. The girl cleared her throat as she turned around, pausing to say, "It's a shame you're busy. I like it when you teach that class."

"Yeah, yeah. Move it," he grunted, nodding towards the door. She lifted her hands, backing up.

"I'm going, I'm going. No need for the big bear display," she said with a smile. "See you, Ruby!" Emma called to the waitress as she stepped outside. When she disappeared, Logan's stony glare softened. Ruby refilled their mugs. As she poured, Jude leaned back in her seat, tilting her head.

"I'm not a student, am I?" she asked, watching Ruby's heels click away.

"You look a little old to be lumped in with them," he said in between the last few bites of toast.

"Old?" she snorted, giving him a playful look from the side of her eye. "I'm a twenty-something, I'm not _old._ You don't look all that much older than I am."

"I'd guess you at twenty-five."

"Probably. No way to know for sure. How about you? You're what, thirty? Thirty-two on a bad day?"

"You should pick a birthday," he replied.

"Eh?"

"Pick a birthday. You're going to have to get papers and shit together and if you're twenty-five we may as well decide when you're twenty-six."

"What day was it when we met?" Jude asked, reaching over and picking up the paper cat, fiddling with its boxy jaw.

"I found you on the third. May third."

"May third it is, then," she said, yawning. "Oh, yeah sure, _now_ I'm tired."

"Don't expect to sleep normal for a while. If you're anything like me you're not going to get used to it for a long time." Their eyes briefly met, but he looked out the window.

"It's the way the place smells, really, I think."

"Yeah, most of the others there can't tell. You'll get used to it," he said, nodding.

"Like, um. A lot of them have this weird smell to them, I guess." She shook her head, searching in vain for words to describe it. "It's not... bad. In factit's weird, but nice. It's just sharp, and strong. That's what makes it so hard to sleep. I can't relax. I feel like I should _do_ something." He leaned forward on his elbows, keeping his voice down.

"That's the smell of fear."

"Really? I mean the smell of fear? Really? Man, I guess that's a bit fucked up," she said through a lopsided, nervous smile, running her thumb up and down the inside of her mug handle.

"Don't worry about that. I got used to it. It's normal."

"Is it?" Jude's brows came together, the grip on her mug tightening. "Enjoying others' fear doesn't _seem_ normal."

"I'm sure you learned how to deal with it before. You can do it again. Hey, it doesn't only extend to fear, you know. It's really useful. You can pick up on all kinds of signals that way," he said, grinning.

"Like what?" He just grinned wider. The idea took a moment to connect.

"Oh. Hah!"

"What? It ain't all about tracking deer through snow and stuff," he said, shrugging, not quite able to keep a straight face. She liked seeing him like this - less guarded, almost playful. About to respond, her heart sunk a little as he cleared his throat, settling back into stony aloofness.

"Hey, if you're all done, I'll take you back now. I got things to do and you should probably sleep."

"Oh. Yeah. Okay."

"'Ey, Ruby," he called over his shoulder in the direction of the waitress, pouring coffee for another customer. "Tab?"

"This one's on the house, hun," she replied, ringing up another customer. "Ain't seen you in a while and any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

"Thanks Ruby," Jude said, placing her hands in her pockets.

"You two have yourselves a nice day."

/-|-\

_"This is going to make things moderately more difficult," said the man, bringing a glass of brandy to his lips. On a screen before him, he watched a satellite feed of a motorcycle speeding down a stretch of highway. "But only moderately."_

_"The downed chopper and two missing units beg to differ, Daniel."_

_"Don't worry. I've some idea on how to deal with the problem."_

_"You do? I was not under the impression we had anybody stationed in Westchester."_

_"No," Daniel replied slowly, narrowing his eyes at the screen. "You're correct."_

_"Ah," said the older gentleman. "Then you know a proxy?"_

_"It'll take me a few days, he's not exactly on call."_


End file.
